


Misadventured Piteous Overthrows

by Lexus (Beautiful_Ruin)



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Friends With Benefits, but V wants more, she's afraid to ask
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27571936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beautiful_Ruin/pseuds/Lexus
Summary: I wrote this for my girl =D She gave me a prompt idea and this fic was born. Villanelle and Eve have a friends with benefits situation going on, and Villanelle wants more but she's afraid to ask because she thinks Eve will walk away.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 24
Kudos: 181





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Villanon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Villanon/gifts).



They kiss, on the bridge, and Eve thinks _this is it. I'm finally going to give her exactly what she wants. I'm going to let her take me home and fuck me senseless_. But where is home? Home is nowhere now. Neither of them have a home. Not like Villanelle would want to take Eve home for keeps anyway, but still, having a home would be a nice fucking thing.

She stops panicking about being homeless when Villanelle breaks the kiss because Villanelle has this goofy smile on her face that Eve has never seen. “Where should we go, Eve?”

“Where _can_ we go?” Eve asks, turning to lean on the railing and stare down at the water.

Villanelle thinks about it. Where can they go? She would love to be able to whisk Eve away to safety and hide out in a safehouse together for eternity, but that is just not realistic. “We can go to a hotel,” she finally says, because what other option is there for tonight?

Eve almost laughs. Of course V would suggest a hotel. “Right,” she says. Suspicions confirmed. It’s better this way, anyway, isn’t it? No commitment, no obligation, no accidentally using each other’s toothbrush, no dealing with each other’s terrible habits (because honestly, two people like them had to have terrible habits). No feelings. Just sex. Villanelle wants to go to a hotel? That’s fine with Eve. “Pick your poison.”

Villanelle’s heart jumps. “Really?” Eve is actually agreeing to go with her? She thinks she might stop breathing. Everything she’s ever wanted is right here beside her, and Eve is actually saying yes. They will stay in a hotel until they figure out somewhere else to go, somewhere more permanent.

***

Villanelle checks them in under a fake name and pays in cash, and she insists on going in first to make sure it’s safe, so Eve hangs back in the doorway, but she’s ready to jump in if she’s needed. She’s not a damsel in distress, but Villanelle is so happy to be her protector, who is she to shatter the illusion? Or more likely, Villanelle doesn’t want to be interrupted once they get down to sex. Maybe it’s not about protecting Eve at all.

Villanelle will die before she lets anything happen to Eve. She checks the room quickly but efficiently, and drags Eve inside when she’s sure it’s empty.

Eve shuts the door behind her; hears the automatic lock engage, and she’s leaning in to kiss Villanelle, but Villanelle lets go of her arm and heads for the minibar. “You don’t have to get me drunk, Villanelle. I’m here to have sex with you.”

Villanelle nearly trips over her own feet hearing that and bumps right into the minibar instead of suavely opening it. She can’t breathe. She really can’t breathe and she’s starting to get concerned when the air whooshes back into her lungs and she steadies herself with a hand on the door of the metal box. She had not expected to have sex with Eve tonight. Or even tomorrow night, or the next night, or the next night. She had expected to work up to it slowly, taking Eve to dinners and dancing and romantic walks in the park... ice skating rinks and movie theaters and bowling alleys. Kissing and kissing and kissing, a lot, and finally getting the nerve to put a hand on Eve’s waist, not even under her shirt.

The longer Villanelle is silent, the longer Eve stands there wondering what the fuck is going on. “Villanelle,” she finally says. “Hello. Do you not want to have sex with me?”

“Of course I do!” Villanelle spins to face her, eyes wide. “I did not think you would be so easy to get into bed, Eve,” she says to cover her nerves. She almost dies when Eve’s response is to strip off her jacket and toss it onto the floor. She prays the ugly turtleneck is next.

Eve watches Villanelle watch her, and when all she gets for the jacket stripping is a raised eyebrow, she rolls her eyes and strips off her blouse, tossing it down as well. She’s in a bra and trousers, and she catches Villanelle staring at her nipples, which V really can’t be blamed for because they are poking quite prominently against the soft satin fabric of her bra. “Okay, is this a solo activity or what? Because I’m not getting the vibes that you’re into it.”

Villanelle snaps out of it and closes the distance, shoving Eve into the door and squeezing her breasts, and with a mischievous grin she closes her fingers around each flimsy bra cup and tears in opposite directions, rending the fabric apart.

“Wow,” Eve says. “Impressive display of strength.” She doesn’t mean it. The bra cost five pounds, which is cheap even for a cheap bra.

Villanelle doesn’t want it to go like this. She sighs and drops her hands, and she doesn’t know what to say because the last time she said I love you to Eve, Eve left her. But how can she express that she doesn’t want to be rough; doesn’t want to tear Eve’s clothes and compete for dominance; doesn’t want to try to impress or dazzle. She just wants it to be _them_ , like they were on the bridge, vulnerable with each other. But she doesn’t know how to say it. She goes for a half truth. “I’m too tired to be rough with you, Eve. Will you lie down with me?”

Eve is confused, but she has nothing against lying down, and truth be told, she’s fucking exhausted. She kicks off her shoes, shrugs out of her trousers and panties, and crawls into bed in her socks. “My feet get cold,” she says before there can be any commentary.

“I do not mind if you wear socks to bed,” Villanelle says, and she stares at Eve’s naked body until it disappears beneath the sheets, then starts to undress herself. She is normally fine with being naked. She has a great body and everyone she sleeps with tells her this. She knows she looks good. But she is shy in front of Eve, because she knows Eve is looking and she has never wanted someone to find her beautiful so badly before in her life. She quickly gets under the sheet and pulls it up to her neck.

Eve laughs and tugs the sheet away from Villanelle, dropping it at V’s waist and running her hand up perfect curves to cup one breast. It fits nicely in her palm and she gives a little squeeze.

Oxygen is in short supply again and Villanelle gasps, arching into the touch. She’s laying on her side facing Eve, but while the sheet has been stripped from her body, Eve is still wearing it. “I want to see you too,” she says softly. “Please, Eve.” If they are going to have sex, she at least wants to memorize every inch of Eve’s body.

Eve realizes she’s still covered after stripping Villanelle, and at the request she kicks the sheet down to the foot of the bed. “It’s been awhile, so no judging,” she says, giving Villanelle’s nipple a tiny pinch.

Villanelle moans, embarrassed at the intensity of emotion she is experiencing over that tiny pinch. Because to her, it is not just a tiny pinch. It is a tiny pinch that is made by Eve’s fingers. Which means Eve is touching her. Which means Eve is here in the hotel room with her. Which means Eve has chosen her. They have chosen each other. “No judging me either,” she says before she can stop herself.

“Judging you for what? Being fucking flawless?” Eve gapes at her, pinching a little harder, watching Villanelle’s face twist with mild discomfort. She catalogues that look and eases the pressure. “Why are you being coy?”

“I am not being coy,” Villanelle says. “I am being respectful.”

“I’m not here to be respected, I’m here to be fucked,” Eve says, pinching harder again.

“Eve, that hurts,” Villanelle says softly. “I don’t want you to hurt me tonight. It is our first time.”’

Eve thinks that’s Villanelle’s way of saying she doesn’t think Eve can keep up. But honestly, this is her first time with a woman, so maybe it’s best to just let Villanelle lead. She’s gentle again, and she pulls Villanelle’s body against hers, running a hand across V’s cheek. “All right. How is our first time going to go?”

“I want to make you feel very good,” Villanelle says.

“Well I can’t say I have any objections, but don’t you want me to make you feel good too?”

“Only if you are comfortable with it,” Villanelle says. “But I would like to touch you first. May I touch you first, Eve?”

How is she supposed to even consider denying that when Villanelle is so eager to please her, and out of the two of them, Villanelle is the one who knows what she’s doing? No, there will be no denying the request. “Mhmm,” she says.

“Would you lie on your back, Eve?” Villanelle asks gently, letting their foreheads touch. God, she has wanted this for so long. It probably has seemed like she just wanted sex, but really, it was this. Being with Eve, being close, talking, touching, having someone who understands her. Loving each other. Because she loves Eve so, so much... and if she had to trade sex for a lifetime with Eve, she would not even blink. She would choose Eve. She would painstakingly go without sex for the rest of her life if it meant Eve never left her again. However, she is happy that Eve does want sex with her too. She is just very nervous about making it perfect so that Eve might want to do it again.

Eve can’t really read Villanelle’s face so she just takes things as they appear to be and rolls onto her back. She’s excited, she won’t lie to herself. And can she really lie to herself considering she’s soaking wet? Well, she’s Eve, so yeah, she could probably lie to herself even now. But she won’t. She’s excited to have Villanelle naked in bed with her, about to _touch_ her for the first time. She’s surprised that V wants it to be gentle, but really, she’s not complaining.

Villanelle shivers and curls up to Eve’s side, brushing a hand over the shoulder farthest away and down Eve’s arm. She feels goosebumps break out and she shivers again. “Eve,” she whispers. “Where do you want me to touch you?”

“Where do you want to touch me?”

Villanelle almost says your heart, but she can’t. She’s been down that road and Eve rejected her. “Everywhere,” she says instead. “May I touch you everywhere?”

Eve shifts a little with anticipation now. “Mm. Please do.”

Villanelle can’t really believe she’s in this position, and she trails a light touch from Eve’s hip all the way up to her throat, feeling the slight shiver beneath her fingertip. She closes her hand around it, just a bit, just a ghost of a touch, and feels Eve’s gasp before she hears it.

“Villanelle,” Eve breathes, her eyelids fluttering.

“Do you trust me?” Villanelle asks, and if Eve says no, she will die.

Eve stares into Villanelle’s eyes, but the question isn’t hard to answer, because for all of their faults, they do trust each other. Implicitly. They really always have, even if their beginning was a bit stilted. She shifts to alleviate the building pressure between her legs and pushes her tongue against her teeth for a moment before she speaks. “I trust you.”

Villanelle almost comes. A shudder takes hold and rocks her to the point she has to clench all of her muscles to ride it out, and then she lets go of Eve’s throat and strokes it instead with one blunt fingernail. “Would you talk to me, Eve?”

Eve watches the reaction her trust causes, and really, she doesn’t feel much different herself. Villanelle is so fucking hot it’s actually ridiculous, and V wants _her_. She is all that this ruthless assassin wants in the world. “What would you like me to say?” Her voice is raspy.

“Tell me things about what your body is feeling?” Villanelle suggests, trailing that fingernail down Eve’s chest and circling each of her nipples in turn.

“Wet,” Eve says. “My body is feeling wet.”

Villanelle’s fingernail pauses and her eyes close, her breath forced out. “Oh,” she whispers. “Oh, Eve...”

“Is that not what you meant?” Eve asks, peering at her sideways, suddenly unsure.

“It is perfect,” Villanelle breathes. She brings her hand to her mouth and licks the tip of her finger, then drags it over Eve’s left nipple, opening her eyes to see the shine left behind.

Eve’s nipple is tight, and now it’s cold because of the saliva glistening along the tip, and when Villanelle licks her fingertip again and does the same to her right nipple, they both get tighter. “Jesus,” she exhales, shoving a hand up to run through her hair.

That voice hits Villanelle in so many places – that ragged, breathy voice. She flattens her hand and rubs firmly down over Eve’s belly, stopping to tug gently on the trimmed curls that cover what she wants. “Will you ask me? Please?” She catches Eve’s gaze and holds it while she gives another soft tug.

Eve is losing coherency a little and she’s not sure exactly what Villanelle means. “Ask you?”

“Yes, I... would like you to ask me. To touch you. To—ask me to do whatever it is you want me to do...”

Eve’s heart is racing and she spreads her legs a little. “Well I mean... I want you to fuck me,” she says when she finally wraps her mind around it. “Would you fuck me, Villanelle? With your fingers?”

Villanelle’s nostrils flare with the effort to keep from moaning. “Yes,” she says decisively, sliding her hand lower, crawling her fingers through the unbearably hot slick beneath Eve’s curls, and she probes delicately with one until it is seated all the way inside. “Eve,” she nearly growls.

Eve’s mouth falls open and she stares at Villanelle, because how can a single finger inside her feel so goddamn _good_? Is it because they’ve been dancing around this for months? Is it because Villanelle is hotter than should be humanly possible? She has no idea, but nothing has ever felt so amazing in her life. If she had to choose between this feeling and a thousand orgasms, she would choose this. “Oh God,” she whispers. “Never move.”

“I would be more than happy to stay like this forever,” Villanelle says. “I will stay like this until you are ready for me to move.” She holds her hand still, but her body is thrumming with the urge into motion.

“It’s okay,” Eve pants, shaking her head. “Move, move.”

Villanelle likes the desperate way Eve says this, and she slowly moves her hand. Out... in... out... in... never giving Eve anything hard or fast; never giving Eve anything _more_. She wants Eve to come undone because she doesn’t ever want to be forgotten. If she can take Eve apart with her touch, she will be the only one able to put Eve back together.

Eve can’t help squirming her hips, narrowing one eye at Villanelle because she knows this is purposeful. “V,” she says, hoping the nickname will earn her points. “Come on.”

Villanelle sighs and nuzzles her nose against Eve’s cheek. “I was hoping you would say please,” she says, dropping a little pouty kiss where she’s just nuzzled. But she moves her hand faster.

“Oh,” Eve says, realizing Villanelle wasn’t actually trying to tease her. “I can say please. You want me to say please, V?”

Villanelle’s groin clenches and she bites her lip, nodding. “Mhmm.”

Eve grins at her with only a trace of mischief and nips at her jaw. “Please,” she murmurs against the warm skin. “Please, please, please... fuck me, Villanelle...”

Villanelle hisses softly and curls her finger, pressing against the _inside_ of Eve. Her thumb goes to Eve’s clit and rubs in gentle circles. Gentle circles that quickly get more urgent when Eve’s hips start to move. Tiny squirms at first, then more obvious, and then Eve is rocking into her hand and moaning, and Villanelle watches in awe as she comes. The way Eve’s head is thrown back, her throat bared, she looks as wild and untamed as she is. Softly, softly, softly feral.

As Eve starts to relax, she hears her phone buzz. “Can you hand me my bag?”

Villanelle stares at her. “Seriously?”

“Uh, yeah. What if it’s important?”

Villanelle withdraws her finger and leans over, grabbing Eve’s bag from the floor and handing it over.

Eve digs out her phone and grins when she sees the message from Carolyn. “Yes! Everything’s been sorted for the moment so we can both go home until further notice.” She sits up and looks for her clothes, then gets out of bed to start pulling them on.

“Eve, what--?” Villanelle isn’t even sure what to ask because she isn’t even sure what is happening.

“Carolyn took care of the problem,” Eve says, and she’s in her panties and pants, looking for her bra until she remembers that Villanelle ruined it, so she doesn’t bother with it and just pulls on her blouse and jacket. “So we can go home.” She reaches for her bag, which turns her again toward the bed, and when she sees the look on Villanelle’s face she stops. “Shit. Did you want me to fuck you quick before I go?”

Villanelle _literally_ squeaks the word “What?”

Eve laughs and shrugs her bag onto her shoulder, reaching for the door handle. “I’ll take that as a no. See you later.”

Villanelle is having a moment of sheer, utter panic in which she can’t speak. Until Eve opens the door and her motor cortex begins working again. “You’re leav—” But the door is already shutting, without Eve in the room.

She stares at the closed door, almost hyperventilating, until the tears come.


	2. Chapter 2

All Villanelle can think about is Eve. How Eve left at the first opportunity. They had been sharing something so special, and then as soon as Carolyn texted, Eve was so happy to run off. Her heart is broken worse than it was in Rome.

She doesn’t even stay the rest of the night in the hotel. She goes home, too.

In the morning, after a fitful, restless night, she texts Eve.

_Can we talk about last night?_

She doesn’t get an answer all day long. It’s well into evening before she finally does.

_OMG yes, I wanted to talk to you too._

She sighs with relief and starts typing out a response.

I just don’t understand why you left—

Before she gets a chance to hit send, her phone buzzes through another message from Eve.

_Can you **believe** Carolyn shot Paul? Do you think he was really part of The Twelve? Do you think Carolyn is?_

Her heart breaks all over again. Eve doesn’t want to talk about _them_ , she wants to talk about last night before the hotel. Before the bridge. Why did Eve choose her if Eve doesn’t want her? Why did Eve turn around? She wants to press the issue; needs to know why Eve turned around... but she can’t. It’s not worth the risk of losing Eve altogether. So she deletes her response and sends a stupid one instead.

_I don’t know._

She doesn’t know and she doesn’t care. But maybe if she pretends to care, Eve will want to meet to discuss it. She sends another message quickly.

_What do you thnk?_

Oh, nice. She’d sent it so quickly there’s a typo. Her forehead wrinkles with a frown as she stares at the glaring evidence of her desperation: thnk. Ugh. Eve never makes typos. Should she send a corrected version with an asterisk? It’s a hard decision. Her phone buzzes.

_I think Paul really was working for The Twelve, because he knew Konstantin. He claimed he was working undercover for MI6, but nobody from MI6 except my team even knew about The Twelve. And Carolyn? I honestly don’t know at this point, but we should be careful._

Villanelle reads through it and her heart skips at the word ‘we’. She jumps on the opportunity.

_Until we know what’s going on, we should probably stay together more often than not._

She checks for typos before she sends this one. Her phone buzzes right away.

 _Need more of me already?_ And then a winking emoji.

Her throat goes dry and she fumbles the phone in her hands, almost dropping it. How is she meant to respond to that? She should play it cool, right?

 _You wish._ And then a winking emoji.

That’s good, right? Not too needy? She doesn’t want to push Eve away.

She sits bouncing one leg and tapping her fingernail on the phone screen until Eve replies.

_We should probably make some contingency plans. I’ll come over there. Are you still at the hotel or did you go home?_

She makes a disgusted face.

_I went home. You left, so..._

_Mkay. See you in a little bit._

Eyes wide, she sets the phone on the coffee table and gets up to clean.

***

It’s dark by the time Eve arrives, and Villanelle is hoping she can turn this into a romantic evening so she’s lit candles instead of using the lights and she has a movie on the television, ready to go. She’s paused it at the beginning, but after all of the previews. She doesn’t want to make Eve watch previews. Now that Eve has knocked, she presses play on the remote and tries to breathe as she walks to the entryway.

She’s dressed in a red silk robe and her feet are bare, her hair in a bun on top of her head, and she answers the door. Eve is in sweatpants and a T-shirt and her ugly jacket, looking very scraggly, but Villanelle wouldn’t change a single thing about her.

Eve steps in and takes off her coat, draping it over the entry table, and blinks as she looks around. “Jesus. Did you forget to pay your electric bill?”

“No, I—”

“Don’t tell me you’re out of money already.”

“No, I just thought—"

Eve cuts her off with a kiss, one arm slung around her hips. Before she has a chance to even enjoy it, fingers are undoing the sash of her robe and sliding across her bare stomach, dipping into her underwear. She moans, instantly wet, but this is not what she had planned. She wants Eve here for more than sex.

“Wait,” she gasps, pushing at Eve’s wrist.

Eve figures Villanelle probably wants to lie down for this. There’s some movie playing so she grabs the remote and shuts off the tv, then returns her attention to her half-naked hostess. Villanelle looks... kind of lost, honestly, standing in the middle of the room with her hands gripping the cuffs of her robe sleeves, her eyes tracking Eve’s every movement. “Are you okay?”

She opens her mouth to say no, she’s not okay, that she needs answers, she needs love, but that terror flares again and she can’t say it. She can’t. Eve will run if she does. “Just a little chilly,” she says, faking a shiver.

Eve walks back over and rubs her hands rapidly up and down V’s arms, trying to warm her up. “Come on. There’s better ways to do this.”

Villanelle lets Eve tug her to the sofa and lay her down, and God, she wishes this was a prelude to kissing and holding each other all night long... but it’s clear that Eve only wants sex, and she’ll take what she can get.

It’s not that she doesn’t want sex with Eve. She just doesn’t want things with Eve to be like the rest of her meaningless sexual encounters. She wants everything, all of the time. She wants sex, and she wants hand holding, and she wants to call Eve her girlfriend because she’s never really had that before. Nadia was in prison and it didn’t really count, and Anna never really loved her, so Eve would be the first. And she wants Eve to be the first. So badly.

So when fingers brush over her sides and tug on her panties, she lifts her hips.

Eve takes off the panties and puts them in her pocket. Villanelle can have them back later. Maybe. Maybe not, because... she wants something of Villanelle’s to take home with her since she can’t take Villanelle. It really is easier this way, though... panties won’t take up half the bed or snore or kick her in their sleep or drink all the milk and leave the carton in the fridge or—or any of the things that other people can potentially do when they coinhabit your space. This is easier. She’s glad that Villanelle doesn’t want more than sex. Right? Yes. She’s glad.

Eve teases her legs apart with gentle fingers and Villanelle can’t help lifting her hips again, seeking contact. And when Eve starts to lean down, she moans, because she’s pretty sure Eve is going to—“Oh,” she cries out when it happens, a mouth warm on her clit, tongue flicking and lips tugging at the sensitive little bud.

Villanelle tastes incredible and Eve wants more. She dips her tongue lower, pushing inside, swirling and dragging some wetness back out with her, spreading it up to V’s clit before sucking that back into her mouth. “God,” she murmurs against the swollen flesh. “So good, V...”

Villanelle tries to relax. She leans her head back and breathes. “Yes, Eve, you feel so good,” she echoes the sentiment. She wants to put her hands in Eve’s hair but she’s afraid it won’t be welcome. She doesn’t want to do anything that might make Eve leave.

Eve sucks harder and brings one hand between V’s legs, carefully easing a finger into her, and relishes the groan from the hardened assassin under her touch. “More?” she asks, voice muffled by Villanelle’s clit.

“Yes,” Villanelle manages to answer amid failing brainwaves, and when Eve obliges, sliding in a second finger, she comes embarrassingly fast.

She’s even more embarrassed when Eve picks her head up and says, “did you just--?”

“Yes,” she says, like it’s normal to come as soon as someone puts their fingers inside you.

Eve grins, because she’s made Villanelle come in under five minutes, and if that doesn’t do something for her ego, what will? She wipes her mouth and drops a kiss to Villanelle’s belly, then slowly sits up with a stretch. “See you later?”

Villanelle’s jaw drops. She quickly closes it and fights off the tears by sheer force of will. “You do not want me to touch you, Eve?”

Eve is standing, patting V’s now drawn-up knees. “You went last night, I went tonight. You can go next time.”

She watches in awe as Eve crosses to the door and puts on the ugly jacket. Her legs are shaking and she reaches for her underwear, but can’t find them. Eve must have kept them. But why, when—

“Pay the electric bill,” Eve says as she opens the door and steps out, shutting it behind her.

Villanelle wants to scream.


	3. Chapter 3

It goes on the same way for weeks. It’s amazing for the short time that Eve is there with her, but all Eve wants to do is fuck and then she leaves. She leaves, and Villanelle cries.

On rare occasions, they’ll fuck so hard that Eve can’t help falling asleep afterward, and these times are Villanelle’s favorites because she can just lie there and look for a few hours. She can look, study, and even lightly touch Eve without being rushed or having her gentle caresses rejected in favor of fingers inside and biting teeth. That is what Eve usually wants – hard. And Villanelle wants to be soft. She wants to pour out all of her feelings that she’s been keeping tightly wound against herself. But she would lose Eve. And losing Eve is not an option.

She tells herself constantly that she shouldn’t complain; that she gets more than anyone else gets from Eve and she should be grateful and happy. She’s not happy, though. She’s heartbroken every time Eve walks out the door without being able to read the love and longing in her eyes. She’d always thought Eve understood her. Now she’s not so sure, and that makes her feel more alone than anything else.

***

Eve hates it when she falls asleep after sex because Villanelle probably gets annoyed waiting for her to wake up and leave. She feels vulnerable in those times, like she’s breaking the rules, and she hates it. Villanelle has never said anything about it, but she doesn’t have to. Eve knew what she was signing up for the moment she agreed to go to a hotel that first night they were together. And sex with V is great. Better than great. It’s fantastic. It’s the best sex she’s ever had, and most of the time, she’s happy. She just doesn’t like falling asleep. She doesn’t want to wear out her welcome.

So she’s already annoyed when she wakes up and finds herself in Villanelle’s bed, and when she sees Villanelle dressed and in the kitchen, she clenches her jaw, trying not to be as angry with herself as she is. It’s not her fault, really, that she fell asleep. Villanelle had worn her out tonight, maybe more than any other night they’ve spent together, so she can’t be blamed. She wonders how long Villanelle has been waiting for her to leave.

Villanelle looks over when she hears Eve stir. “Eve!” she says cheerily. “I made you dinner.”

“I’m just gonna get some takeout on the way home,” Eve says, already dressed and headed for the door.

Villanelle can’t take it. She absolutely cannot take one more second of her heart being torn out of her chest on a nightly basis. She can’t afford to lose Eve but there is not an ounce of control in the way she suddenly breaks. The wine glass slips from her fingers and shatters on the floor. Wine splashes across her pants and she has no idea whether she’s gotten hit with any broken glass because the floodgates have finally opened and she’s curled in the corner of the kitchen, sobbing.

Eve’s about to unlock the door when she hears breaking glass and spins around. At first she thinks Villanelle’s been cut, but the shards of glass are nowhere near her and she’s—she’s—she’s _crying_. Villanelle is curled in a ball crying, and Eve has no idea what’s happened. “Oh my God,” she says, rushing over and squatting down. “What’s wrong? What the fuck happened?” she asks in a near panic.

Villanelle can’t even speak.

“Okay,” Eve says, trying to stay calm. “Let’s get you out of the kitchen.”

Villanelle is taller than her, but slender and easy enough to lift, and she carries the sobbing woman to the living room, making a split-second decision as she sits on the sofa and keeps Villanelle in her lap.

Villanelle’s arms go around Eve’s neck and she wails incoherently, words failing her.

Eve feels around to make sure she isn’t actually cut, but there’s no blood gushing from anywhere, so she just sits dumbfounded and waits for Villanelle to be able to speak.

It takes a long time. A long, long time. She’s not even sure what to say once the tears slow down. “I’m sorry,” she starts.

“For crying?” Eve asks.

“For keeping you here so long when I know you want to go,” Villanelle says with painstaking effort.

“But what got you so upset?” Eve presses. “You weren’t crying over dropping a wine glass.”

Villanelle has backed herself into a corner now and she’s going to have to be honest. Her stomach is twisting and she feels nauseous; on the verge of being sick all over the sofa. She’s about to lose everything. “I can’t take it anymore, Eve,” she confesses, her voice dry and scratchy from crying. “Why don’t you ever want to stay with me?”

A thousand doors slam shut in Eve’s mind to make a pathway to this uncharted territory and she blinks, staring at Villanelle. “What?” She can’t have heard that right.

“I try so hard,” Villanelle says, her forearms shaking where they rest on Eve’s shoulders. “I—I—I put movies on and you turn them off, I light candles to be romantic and you—you blow them out and turn on the lights... I make—I make you food and you never eat it... I love having sex with you Eve but you always leave right after! You never want to do normal things with me and be with me! The only time I get to h—hold you and be gentle with you is when you fall asleep, and—and you don’t even do that on purpose!”

Eve’s eyes get wider and wider as she listens, her heart racing faster and faster and her pulse getting louder and louder in her ears. “Oh my G—Villanelle, y—what—it’s—I didn’t—I thought you—I never—oh my God...”

“I know you are going to leave me now, but I have to tell you, I can’t take it anymore! I want everything, all of you, I want you to stay the night and eat breakfast with me in the mornings, I want to go out to eat with you and go to the movies and take walks together and get a cat or a dog or something together and have plants and a vegetable garden and let you choose the wallpaper... I want to hold you and I want you to hold me; I want to kiss you and be allowed to touch you in a way that shows how much I love you, Eve... I’m so—I’m so in love with you and I get my heart broken every time you leave.”

Villanelle is crying again by the time she stops talking, and Eve is surprised to find her own eyes wet with tears, because she’s not a crier by any stretch of the imagination. But Villanelle has just shocked her senseless and turned her entire world upside down; flipped everything she thought she knew onto its end. And to be told that she’s been breaking Villanelle’s heart every night for weeks just _kills_ her. How could she have been so stupid? Had she just not wanted to see it or had V hidden it that well? She doesn’t know what to say. She feels like she’s frozen... until Villanelle starts to pull away, and she blurts out, “I don’t want a cat or a dog but everything else sounds great!”

Villanelle whimpers and stops pulling away, burying her face in Eve’s neck instead, arms tightening around the other woman. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it, _please_ ,” she begs.

Eve squeezes her tight, still in disbelief. “I thought it was what you wanted,” she finally explains her behavior. “I thought you wanted sex. When I asked where to go that first night... you said a hotel.”

It’s Villanelle’s turn to blink. She picks her head up and stares at Eve. “Because we were being hunted and couldn’t go home... where else could we have gone? I said a hotel because we didn’t have any other choice, not because I wanted you to fuck me and leave!”

“Oh God,” Eve says, dropping her head back to rest on the sofa cushion and stare at the ceiling. “Oh God. I’m so stupid. I’m sorry, Villanelle... I had no idea how you felt. I thought I was doing what you wanted.”

“I did want to have sex with you, Eve,” Villanelle rushes to assure her. “I wanted that very much. I just wanted to work up to it; to show you how I felt about you and make you feel amazing.” She notices the red tinge to Eve’s cheeks and puts her hands over them. “You are not stupid.”

“I’m pretty fucking stupid,” Eve insists. “I’ve been torturing you for weeks without even realizing it, thinking it was what you wanted and having no clue that I was being obtuse. I’m so, so sorry...”

Villanelle allows herself to feel a sliver of hope for the first time in a while. “So you... do want more than sex with me? Or... or you still don’t?”

“I’ve been telling myself I don’t love you since that day on the road.”

“The day you got out of the car like a suicidal idiot and faced down a killer without a weapon of your own? _That_ day?”

“My weapon was my charm,” Eve says with a grunt. “But yes, that day.”

“And is it true? What you have been telling yourself?”

Eve snorts. “I wouldn’t have to tell myself over and over if it was true. No, it’s not true. I love the shit out of you.”

Villanelle almost cries again, but she’s done enough of that, so she just presses her mouth over Eve’s and holds it there, kissing without urgency for the first time since the bridge. “How do you love the shit out of someone? I have always wondered...”

Eve wiggles beneath her and runs her hands up Villanelle’s back. “Take your clothes back off and I’ll show you.”

“Only if you swear to stay the night.”

“Now that I know it’s what you want... I’ll stay every night.”

Villanelle shudders with relief and desire both, and kisses Eve again. “I will hold you to that.”

Eve kisses her back. “Do I still get dinner?”

Villanelle beams. This is what she has wanted for so long. “Yes, Eve. You get everything.”


End file.
